The Mantle
by Carawyn
Summary: The story behind Faramir giving Eowyn his mother's mantle. Please review! Any tips for how to improve would be vastly apprciated.


Disclaimer: I of course do not own Eowyn, Faramir, Eomer, any locations, etc. I'm just borrowing them for a creative outlet.  
  
It's amazing how quickly one can become used to something and start to take it for granted. After only three days of meeting Faramir every morning and afternoon in the gardens behind the houses I was taking it for granted that he would be there the next day. So it was a surprise when he said he would be in a meeting the next morning and would not be joining me as he had been. I didn't even fully realize that this annoyed me until I was already in bed and nearly asleep. It brought me awake quickly, and it was some time before I was able to rest.  
  
The following morning I spent reading. There were few books in the houses, and most of those were books on herbs or healing. I chose one at random and went to sit in the sun, drinking in its welcome warmth as I laboriously worked through the pages. Of course my uncle had seen that I knew how to read, as was expected of members of the royal family, but it was not a skill I used often. I was surprised to find myself engrossed, and I thought it only mid-morning when my maid came in search of me, for my lunch was served and waiting for me in my room.  
  
Stepping through the door, it took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust from the brightness of the garden. A guard of the citadel was exiting from Faramir's room, and I was surprised to see that it looked as though he had been weeping. I closed my eyes for a moment and then opened them again to see if I could see more clearly, for this guard was Beregond, and all knew how he had risked his life to save the steward. Surely Faramir would not have given such a man occasion to weep! Of course, he was too far away when I reopened my eyes to be sure, so I shrugged to myself and went into my own room for my lunch.  
  
It was several hours later when I returned to the gardens, and as expected, Faramir was there. He was standing on the walls, he arms extended to either side of him, hands flat on the top of the waist high wall, as he looked out over the city below. Smiling, I climbed the stairs and approached him, and received another shocking surprise. He was weeping. Silent tears coursed freely down his cheeks, and suddenly the pieces fell into place in my mind. Beregond was present for the last hour of Denethor's life, and I knew that Faramir had not yet been told the full story of what had happened. The guard had been weeping, because of the pain he had brought in giving this young man he loved the details of his father's death.  
  
I stopped, unsure of what to do. My heart was filled with such understanding and such pity for this man who had become a friend that a part of me wanted nothing more than to offer whatever comfort I might be able to provide. But I also knew that intrusion into such a private moment by someone he'd only known for a few days might be most unwelcome, and so I was torn.  
  
For a long moment I simply stood there, and eventually he must have sensed my presence, for he turned his head to look at me for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the fields beyond the city walls. Finally I thought I knew what he wished, so I spoke softly,  
  
"I will leave you, my lord, but you have only to send for me if you desire company, and I will come."  
  
I turned to the stairs again, and was just stepping down to the first stair when I heard him. "Stay" I stopped again. The word had been so soft I could not be sure that I had really heard it. "Please."  
  
I turned again, and immediately went to his side, resting my right hand lightly on his arm for a moment before moving to simply stand beside him. He reached up with one hand, and brushed the tears from his face, but it was a long while before he spoke. Slowly he told me the story, speaking of a dark night that was without hope, and the tale chilled me despite the warm sun that I had so enjoyed that morning.  
  
I said nothing, for what could be said? What small words could I offer that might ease the pain he felt at knowing his own father had tried to kill him? I simply put my hand on his arm again to let him know I was there for him. By the time the story had been fully told, we both had tears on our faces, and the sun was setting.  
  
For a long while we stood in silence, watching the red sun turn the walls pink, then red and then finally to grey when it at last disappeared. He then reached around and took my hand in his for a moment, squeezing it lightly before releasing it. "Thank you, Eowyn, for listening. It makes it. easier to bear... somehow."  
  
I simply nodded, and smiled a little, "I understand, my lord, and I am glad I was able to help you in some small way. If ever there is anything else I can do."  
  
This time he nodded, and even attempted a smile, "As I said when we first me, my lady, just being with you eases my heart in these dark days."  
  
I knew not how to reply, and so look out to the west again, and watched the last colors from the fiery sunset fade away into the dark blue of the night sky, and I shivered. It had grown cool in the absence of the sun, and while several dresses had been hastily made for me I did not have a cloak.  
  
Faramir noticed, and suggested that we move inside, a suggestion I readily agreed to, and we went in for our evening meals.  
  
The next morning, I arrived in the gardens first, and was once again reading my book when Faramir arrived. He carried a package, wrapped in a plain white cloth, and as he sat on the bench with me he offered it to me. I was growing used to being surprised in this garden. Carefully untying the ribbon that held the wrapping closed, I pulled back the white fabric to reveal a beautiful cloak that was a blue as the evening sky, with silver stars embroidered in fine stitches about the neck and hem. I drew in a deep breath when I saw it, and then gently smoothed one hand over the rich texture of the fabric. Then I looked over to Faramir in question. He spoke before I could.  
  
"I am in your debt, my lady. I could never express my gratitude for yesterday, and hope that this gift might, in some way, show you how much I appreciate your kindness."  
  
I smiled then, but shook my head, "I did nothing a friend would not do for another friend, my lord. There is no need to thank me, especially not with such a gift! It is beautiful. but I could not accept it, Faramir. It is too much!" And I tried to hand it back to him.  
  
He would not take it, and instead gently pressed it back down onto my lap. "Please, Eowyn, accept it. I know you do not have a cloak here, and I would see this one worn again. Too long has it been hidden away." He smoothed his thumb over the rich texture of the fabric once and then stood, holding his hand out to me.  
  
I shook my head once more, though I smile, "Faramir, I can not! All I did was listen, and you have listened to me many times in these past days. I did nothing to earn such a gift, and fear I have nothing to offer in return."  
  
He laughed then, and held out his hand once more, "It is a gift! You do not have to earn it. It pleases me to give it, and it will please me to see it worn, and it will please me to see you warm on a chilly morning like this one. Truly, I am giving it for purely selfish reasons."  
  
How could I not join in his laughter? I put the cloak on the bench beside me, then took his hand and stood. He reached for the cloak before I did, and gently unfolded it and placed it around my shoulders, fastening it gently. I truly was grateful for his assistance, for I still only had one hand, and the broach would have been beyond what I could do.  
  
I smiled up at him then, "I am grateful for the cloak, my lord. I hadn't thought to ask the seamstress to make one for me."  
  
We started to walk along the walls, and silence fell between us, as if often did. As the morning drew on, the wind grew stronger and the temperatures dropped. Even wrapped in the cloak I was chilled, and I shivered. We were on the walls again, and stopped walking. We faced to the north, and so saw the cloud that signaled the destruction of Sauron, and we were still in the garden when the eagle flew overhead, singing of the glorious news.  
  
Faramir left the houses two days later, for he had duties to fulfill and city to provide for. I still walked in the gardens every day, though somehow it just wasn't the same any longer. It was only on the occasions when he would come to visit that I would find myself laughing, or even smiling. Yet I never realized this fact until he spoke his heart to me. Once again, being with him brought all the pieces together, and at last I was healed.  
  
After the coronation, when Eomer and I were preparing to return to Minas Tirith, I brought the cloak with me when I was meeting with Faramir for the last time before we left.  
  
"Faramir, you know that I had thought to return this to you when I returned home, but now I would ask if I could keep it with me." I can feel the blush coming to me cheeks as I continue, rubbing my hand over the fabric, a habit that was both automatic and subconscious when handling the richly textured material. "I would have something of yours to hold when I miss you."  
  
He smiled fondly, and kissed my brow lightly, "Then keep it, my love. But I will have nothing of yours."  
  
I smiled nervously, and pulled a small package from beneath the folds of the cloak, and handed it to him shyly. Inside was a tunic, very simple, but made from the same material as the dress I wore. As he held it up I explained, "It is not much, I know, and surely you have many tunics that are much finer, but I never did spend much time learning to sew when I was a child. But I did want you to have something that I had made, even if you never wear it."  
  
The look on his face made all the hours spent ripping out seams and all the pricked fingers worthwhile. Eomer arrived then, and reluctantly we parted for a while. As we rode away from the city, I looked back, and had to laugh. He stood on the walls over the gateway, as he had said he would. I was wearing his cloak, though it truly was too warm for it, and he had changed into my tunic. We both raised our hands in a final farewell, and then I turned to the road before me, content and whole, and already looking forward to returning to returning to his side. 


End file.
